


Spooky Monk Hell Dream

by valonqarth



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, brief mention of Athelstan/Thyri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:45:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valonqarth/pseuds/valonqarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t believe Jesus called me a dick,” he whispered breathlessly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spooky Monk Hell Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the end of series 1  
> Also very brief mention of drugs and alcohol idk man

Athelstan was feeling nostalgic. It was days like these when he saw families flock to see the Earl that he was reminded of his own family he’d left behind in England.

He didn’t just grieve for his brothers at the monastery, but for his actual siblings and parents he’d been taken away from when he had been placed in the monastery. He had very few memories of his life with his parents – he had only been young when they decided that they couldn’t afford to keep feeding him.  

He tried not to dwell on that and thought of the good things about his families. He thought about how his brothers had always been kind to him when he was at the monastery and were always happy to share their knowledge with him.

He thought about the family he had now, if he could call it that anymore. Gyda had been the closest thing he’d had to a little sister in the longest time before she had died and he was pretty sure Bjorn disliked him, though he couldn’t imagine why. He thought of Thyri, too. Maybe if she hadn’t died too things would be different.

All of his family had died. Everyone he had ever considered a part of his family was gone and Athelstan couldn’t help but feel ashamed. His struggles and strife had caused him to doubt his faith. He had almost turned away from God, renounced the Lord in favour of the false gods of the Norsemen.

 _If this is Gods will_ , Athelstan thought, _then there will be a reason for my suffering. Maybe one day I may know that reason. Maybe not. I am a servant of the Lord, and I shall live or die as he wills it._

Athelstan lay down to sleep, prepared to rise with the sun to begin his duties tomorrow morning. He had hoped to sleep soundly, without the wretched dreams that had plagued his mind for the past few weeks. He hoped for a dream without the smell of burning flesh, or the sound of his brothers screaming, or his older sister crying out in pain as the fever burned through her.

His dream this night was different.

In this dream, a man appeared to him. It was not a man he had seen before, but he knew in his heart that it was Jesus. He was beautiful, ethereal and divine as Athelstan had always imagined that Christ would.

“Athelstan,” the voice of Jesus boomed. “You hid whilst all your brothers were killed by heathens, and now you serve them wear their garb and braid your hair like them and turn your back on Christianity. You’re a dick!”

“Jesus, Lord, I am sorry!” he pleaded with the apparition. “I had no choice!”

As though unconvinced by his apology, Jesus shook his head and recounted all of the sins he had committed since his capture.

Athelstan wanted to point out that he couldn’t actually remember if he’d had sex with the widowed Thyri without marrying her and that the drugs and alcohol hadn’t been entirely his fault, but he thought it disrespectful to argue against Jesus.

“Brother Athelstan, if you repent your sins and confess to them then you can be forgiven in the eyes of the Lord,” Jesus said to him and Athelstan did. It was hard not to feel bad about things when Jesus himself was standing in front of you.

Jesus blessed him and disappeared. Athelstan began to recite the prayers he knew by heart, going over every word in his mind.

By the time sunrise came Athelstan hadn’t slept well at all. He was tired, yet he knew he had to get up when the sun began to stream through the window of his room.

He sat up in his bed and tried to remember as much as he could about the dream before pieces of it began to slip away from his memory.

“I can’t believe Jesus called me a dick,” he whispered breathlessly.

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry


End file.
